Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Our mudpuddle to be now looks the same, but it is enriched with one new reflection. 

A quiet afternoon, cold, late fall. Who would suspect that perhaps a nearby puddle was seeking immortality in mud? This lucky puddle has caught a person waiting for a bus. A good mudpuddle takes time to grow and to understand the landscape of home, full of reflections.

I haven't mentioned it, but we have been stalking a particular tulip planter, who may be masquerading as a Volunteer. The species are difficult to track, and can be neither apprehended nor incarcerated unless we have proof of planting. This very afternoon, a person suspected of clandestine planting was caught fleeing the scene of a bulb. Unfortunately, once in the ground and covered with leaves both bulb site and perpetrator disappear entirely! As with many similarly harmful yet non-lethal actions, it is difficult to pursue prosecution when the only evidence is a certain observational simultaneity. Such juxtapositional occurrences are often non- juristic, so I have heard. That being said, be on the lookout! This fleeing planter is likely to strike at any moment, endangering us all with untamed blossoms in irrational places. .

Winter.  It always seem to be a snowy thought, yet here in December, although the trees are bare, the ground is uncovered cold.  Our Magic Tree is different now, with  sap safely stowed and damaged limbs mended in time for sleeping.

This particular tree is very sensitive to admiration.  I know it well for many years, and it is usually comfortable and green when hidden by nearby folliage.  This time of year it turns pink and sometimes even red.  Therefore, when you come across a member of her family, be circumspect.   They are simply not used to being under observation. 

I knew where up was just a second ago. Help!  I'm falling.  No, wait a minute...

I have illusions, yes, why not? I’m dainty and I’m free, a swallow light with feathers, A pretty one, with fine golden hair and just a bit of a waist. Then a petty glance, a bent reflection, and The childhood memories fester, pulling. Look again! Now! I know the truth!        Don’t say it, please.        Don’t make it true with your fine opinion. Look again! Watch! Stomp! Stomp! Where’s the dainty tread now? It never was, never! Watch! Now! I know the truth! I’m not the pretty one. I’m not the dainty one! Oh no, don’t see it too. See the time the fearing graying rancid mist does not seep in. And you can see the willows brush against my face. Do you know the feeling?